


Three Minds Are Better Than One

by Chordae



Series: The Mandalorian and His Child Entourage [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Family meeting, Mandalorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chordae/pseuds/Chordae
Summary: Din seeks advice from two trustworthy consultants with some riveting questions.
Series: The Mandalorian and His Child Entourage [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592737
Comments: 15
Kudos: 178





	Three Minds Are Better Than One

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler it’s literally a family meeting whoops

Din strides into the room, his controlled gait betraying the fact that he can barely keep a lid on his stress. The room stands at a disconcerting calm as he enters, the white noise of someone scribbling something on paper barely permeating the stifling silence, the tension so heavily layered in the air that it’s thick enough to cut.

The two consultants watch him with hungry eyes as he enters the room, multiple sets of inquisitive, dark eyes trailing his heavy strides. They sit, one fidgeting and impatient, the other quiet and watching, wide-eyes seemingly wider in anticipation.

He rounds the table, taking a seat across from the other two who occupy the area.

He straightens his posture as he sits, hands roving over the table and ending in a clasp atop of it. Din stares at the two across from him then nods, deciding to get to the point.

“We’ll be planet-bound until I can get an actual bounty from the locals.”

His simple statement receives a pitchy whine and an annoyed grunt, the furriest of his ‘consultants’ lying their head on the table in defeat.

The smaller one miserably whines, tiny claws clinging to his sibling’s- erm, **_fellow consultant’s_** fur.

Both of their drawings are immediately left unattended, bright and scribbled renditions of Din, Tahns, and the kid. Wooden sticks of wax pigment are scattered around the table and floor, one cluttering to the ground rather loudly as his kid lays his head atop of his drawing and whines. 

Tahns peeks up from sullenly cradling their face, four eyes blinking out of order in their usual curious manner.

“Can’t just shoot people for fuel?” Tahns grumbles, bleak yet inquisitive, their ears flickering in unease.

Din feels a bit disturbed and disappointed in himself, but only shows his inner turmoil through a long-suffering sigh that has practically become his non-verbal catchphrase at this point.

“Uh, _no_ .” Din emphasizes, barely able to keep the panic out of his voice. He decides that he needs to double-check the armory locks after their meeting. “You can’t make money just from shooting people. You have to be _paid_ to shoot them.” Din stresses, a buildup of a headache in the back or his skull, trying to get the point across that you _can’t just shoot random people and expect money_. He doesn’t deny the fact that he is audibly struggling. ”Just. Don't shoot anyone. Please?”

(He feels like he should be wedging a life lesson somewhere in here, but, considering that he’s trying to explain the difference between cold blooded murder and killing for pay, perhaps he isn’t qualified for delivering well-meaning life advice.)

“Second, coming back to where I have to get _paid_ , the locals are either dirt poor, dirt cheap, or a mutt of both.” Din explains with an annoyed edge to his voice. He raps his gloved knuckles over the surface of the table that isn’t covered in decorated paper or coloring utensils, an inaudible sigh escaping him. “So, any ideas how we’re gonna get money?” 

Tahns’ over-brow whiskers twitch once and then their face scrunches up in utter distaste. Din’s other kid doesn’t seem to be doing well, either, tiny clawed hands scratching at the metal of the table. He thinks a moment longer, delivering a deliberate yet somehow thoughtful scratch to the surface of the table.

“Gaaaa?” He says as he looks up at Din, his warbling completely incomprehensible. Din, for the sake of his own sanity (and his kid’s feelings), simply nods.

“That makes sense.” He acquiesces, although it doesn’t.

“We could…” Tahns begins, playing with their sibling’s ears as he bats at their tail in turn. “Take care of peopleses pets?”

“Good idea,” except it’s not and no one would trust a bounty hunter in the vicinity of their pet, much less pay one to take care of it. Also, the only ‘pets’ on this planet is a breed of man-eating canines, so there’s that. “Maybe try something else?”

“Da!” The kid perks up, green ears pointed as high as they can go. He pounds his fists on the table, smile wide and eyes glimmering as if he’d unlocked the secrets to the universe.

(Din wouldn’t be surprised if the kid _did_ know the secrets to the universe, but that’s an existential crisis for another time.)

“Weeeee…. sen!” He warbles, making no sense as Din aimlessly nods along. “Ba!” His kid proclaims, squirming in his seat.

“Brilliant.” Din noncommittally hums.

“He sayed we should sell art.” Tahns translates, _somehow._

“Said, not sayed.” Din absentmindedly corrects, Tahns repeating the word beneath their breath, and then turns to his green kid, _you_ _know_ , the one that vaguely resembles a womp-rat. 

Din shakes his head, just barely, an eyebrow perched high on his forehead beneath his helmet, giving his kid an incredulous look. “Ad’ika, last time we sold art, you somehow managed to get us banned from an entire planet.”

Tahns turns around to Din, usually slit eyes wide in curiosity.

“I’ll tell you later.” Din easily waves it off, leaving Tahns stricken looking.

He turns away from them and, with deft fingers, pulls out a note tucked between the crevice of his armor and his bodysuit, grumbling to himself as he looks over it.

“Okay, back on track, other than fuel and money, is there anything else we need?” Din asks, pulling over a stick of waxed pigment and a sheet of paper from the kid’s section of the table. 

“Food.” Tahns calls out, Din immediately working on scrawling out ‘food’ in an obnoxiously bright orange.

“Ba.” His other kid calls out.

“He said food, too.”

Din mindlessly writes ‘Food’ beneath his previous bullet point of, get this, ‘Food’, looking it over and resolutely deciding to ignore his mistake.

 _Shit_ , he thinks. _Do we really need that much food?_

“More blanket?” Tahns offers, and yeah, Din isn’t going to object to that.

“Anything else we need?”

Tahns seems to think on it a bit, Din’s other kid nonsensically mumbling to himself in lieu of thinking. After a pregnant pause, Tahns shakes their head, in which his other kid copies.

“Okay, then.” Din says, standing from his seat and handing the colored pencil over to his kid. “Meeting adjourned.” He finalizes, allowing the kids to continue their drawing as he disembarks the _Razor Crest_ and travels into town in search of a bounty.

(He does end up getting a decent-paying bounty, which entails wiping out a pack of aforementioned man-eating canines, but what his kids don't know won’t hurt them.)

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> aw heck sorry that this sucked more than usual. I’m running on an average of 3 hours of sleep everyday and my creativity really isn't kicking in.  
> I thought the idea was neat when I wrote it but now I'm having second thoughts. I'll make whatever I write next better, pinky swear.  
> also tahns has this weird ’Angelica from Rugrats’ thing going on and I have no idea how that happened.  
> edit: oh also I’ll post a fic sometime soon in my other series in regards to Din and his son getting banned from a planet


End file.
